Although My Testament Lies Steaming
The price of penance is the soul,
The payment which will make the punished whole.
The cost of kindness is the law
That gentlefolk abhor
The thought of darkness is the night
Where stars or dreams become a blight,
Where blossoms wither on the bough
That bears the broken vow
The price of honesty is pain,
The payment which we make in hope of gain
The value of the lies we tell
The lustre of our shell
...and should illustrious shell be broken,
Shattered by the litany we have spoken
Let it not cause strife in vain,
As affirmations wane
For still the price of living,
sinning, dying, grieving, loving, giving
sinning, dying, grieving, loving
Tis' the price to be alive
... and should the unseen veil be spotted
should the teeming blood of sense be clotted
None betrays the calmest voice
Nor makes the final choice
For in the end the agents,
implode upon themselves with too much introspection
Trying to avoid detection,
Waiting for the next election.
| Contributors: | Stacy, Nancee, P, Roland, Stacy Alexander, TG, Lucretia. |
| Poem finished: | 30th January 1997. |